


The Longer I Run

by Karios



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Finale, Reveal, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:05:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8847937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: Henry is called into Reece's office to face disciplinary action for his choices in the finale. Where the conversation takes them neither one expects, but it could very well be the start of something new.





	1. The Less That I Find

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArgylePirateWD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/gifts).



> It was incredibly intimidating to write for an author whose work I admire so much, but I ended up very proud of the result, and I hope you do too. This work would not have existed without inspiration from your wonderful prompts so thank you for your help in making this fic what it became. Also a thanks to my wonderful BETA Mei, who helped me tighten the dull places, polished my atricious grammar, and generally kept me from defaulting. Lastly, thank you to Peter Bradley Adams for the song lyrics that gave me the titles.

 

    Jo was staring at him. Waiting, Henry knew, for him to make any kind of sense. He was stumbling over half-admissions and broken sentences, stopping and starting right in the middle of words. Her brow furrowed into her familiar, earth-to-Henry expression he knew so well, and he considered that this might be easier if he shut his eyes.

    He had been getting closer to forcing out the long swallowed down truths when the ring of the shop telephone obliterated all the words left unsaid on his tongue. Abraham volunteered to get it, and the second his son left the room the remainder of Henry’s floundering courage failed him. As much as Abraham suspected otherwise, what kept Henry from uttering another word wasn't merely fear, but also lack of practice. Revealing his secret to Abigail had been done for him, and she had been there to help him explain to Abraham, who had also had the benefit of living through it, indirectly.

    How did you shatter someone's entire perception of life and death kindly? And would Jo, who had not long ago suffered an immense loss of her own, resent his curse as some sort of gift she’d been denied? He never got the chance to find out as Abraham reappeared looking grave.

    “It's Lieutenant Reece.” Jo started across the room, but Abraham held up a hand to stop her. “For Henry.”

    “For me?” Henry glanced backward in the direction of the phone and then back to Jo. “Do you think it can wait?”

    Abe looked distinctly apologetic. “No.”

***

    He couldn't tell what this was about yet. He had his suspicions, good hypotheses really, given recent events. The Lieutenant wasn't of much help. She had been brief on the phone, with the barest of pleasantries and the suggestion Henry return to the precinct to meet with her as soon as he was able. Since he’d arrived, the Lieutenant had paced in front of her desk, opening and shutting her mouth several times without uttering so much as even a word in greeting.

    “Good morning, Lieutenant,” offered Henry after a while, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

    That seemed to snap her into attention. “Well it's morning,” she acknowledged, leaning heavily on the desk, “but I wouldn't call it good. Dr. Morgan, you look like hell. Sit.” She raised one hand to indicate the chair behind him.

    Henry briefly considered declining the offer before tugging the chair up under him and sinking into it gratefully.

    “Coffee?” offered Reece as she came out from behind the desk to pour herself a cup.

    Henry scrubbed at his red-rimmed eyes. “Please.”

    Reece filled a second mug and carried them both over, perching Henry's on the far side of the desk. Still distracted, Henry made no move to get it.

    “I didn't poison it,” muttered Reece, and at least one of the reasons for this unusual meeting was thrust into the open. Henry flinched and collected the cup. He gulped a slow mouthful, and thought through his words as the liquid burned down his throat.

    “Did Jo tell you...?”

    Henry was relieved when Reece didn't wait for him to find an ending to his question. “I found out because that museum guard was trying to see if he could press charges. Jo took credit, and the only person I could imagine she’d be protecting was you.”

    Henry's head swam with this new information. Even without the totality of his trust Jo was willing to put her job, her very reputation, on the line. He had spent so long convincing himself he had lied only to protect her, whether bodily or emotionally, and now his secrecy had practically set fire to her life. Henry was so busy kicking himself for the fool he’d been that he barely noticed Reece had started speaking again.

    “Unless I’m wrong? If Jo was telling the truth and really was desperate enough to put a suspect in danger just to move a case forward...”

    Henry seized on the only defensible bit in this whole mess. “He wasn’t in much danger; we called paramedics. Kenneth is going to make a full recovery. Besides, three days without medical attention with such advanced kidney disease would have been...”

    “You checked on him then.” It wasn't a question.

    “I did.” A significant pause followed, before they both spoke at once.

    “Dr. Morgan I brought you here-”

    “I'm sorry for-”

    “You first,” urged Reece with a wave of her hand.

    Henry sighed, wondering just how much he’d regret this decision. “Please, Lieutenant, I am beyond sorry for the trouble I’ve caused, but don't place my failures at Jo’s—or Lucas’s—door. Their friendship shouldn't come at the cost of their livelihoods, nor their reputations.”

    “Lucas?” she asked, and for the briefest of moments, Henry considered she might not have heard about the stolen pugio after all. He dismissed it just as quickly. This was just good police work, drawing out a confession. Still, Lucas had regarded him with loyalty and trust beyond what he deserved, and it would be repaid.

    “I used my influence with Lucas to convince him to remove the pugio. It should just as well have been me.”

    “So you’ve got a good cop confessing to potentially attempted murder, and an assistant ME willing to throw away his career and plead to evidence tampering, for you. Do I have that right?”

    Henry nodded. “Unfortunately that appears to be the facts of the case.”

    “If that's the truth,” Reece sounded either doubtful or disappointed, Henry couldn't tell which, “then shouldn't I be concerned that their judgements are so easily swayed?”

    “No,” replied Henry tightly, his jaw set. “These were exceptionally unusual circumstances.”

    “Care to tell me why, exactly?”

    “I can't.”

    “There's the first time you’ve been perfectly honest in days.”

    There was a truth to her words that stung. Joanna Reece was a bright, passionate detective-at-heart, and Henry had only counted on distance to keep his latest misdeeds from her radar. “I know,” Henry answered with a heavy sigh. There was no point in denying the blindingly obvious. “I'm afraid it's...complicated.”

    “Complicated is a suitable explanation for your unorthodox swimming habits. Complicated is an apt description of your case-solving methods, which if I may refresh your memory include repeatedly charging into my interrogation room, nearly getting yourself killed at the rate of once per case at least, and on one occasion purchasing illicit substances. Complicated may be your term, but it no longer cuts it here. You’re a dangerous man, Henry Morgan.”

    “I am,” he agreed reluctantly. Slowly the solution worked its way down from his brain to his lips. “Which is why I think I should resign, return your best detective and a good assistant medical examiner to less damaging influences.”

    “You’re quitting?” Reece rephrased inelegantly, whatever further admonishment she had been prepared to deliver momentarily abandoned.

    “If that will resolve all of this unpleasantness for you and for Jo and for Lucas, then I will, gladly. Is it enough to allow them both to retain their jobs in full standing if I claim full responsibility?”

    Now it was Reece’s turn to sigh. “I suppose I owe you that much. You're telling me that you'd rather walk away than tell me the truth of what's been happening here?”

    “Unfortunately.” Henry couldn't quite meet her eyes.

    “Alright. In that case, you have until the end of the day to finish up any business and clean out your office. Meet me back here at seven PM.”

    The morgue and its offices were quiet when he arrived. With all of his experience running away, packing progressed quickly and efficiently. Very few of his outstanding cases required more than signatures or the occasional note for whatever ME would receive the file. Every moment was a special kind of agony, so Henry quickly drafted his letter of resignation and deposited it under Reece’s door as soon as possible, glad her office was unoccupied when he got there.

    As eager as he’d been to leave, Henry was in no major hurry to return home. Abraham would be disappointed, and he had had enough of conversation, difficult or otherwise. Unable to find a better stalling option, Henry paid for the subway, glad to join other New Yorkers in being alone together.

    He took an empty seat and opened the paper he collected from the machine in the terminal. The black lines of ink blurred before his eyes. While his rational mind insisted he was doing the right thing, Henry had been forced to confront his love for the life he’d built in New York too many times in the past year to give it up easily. He’d miss his colleagues, the morgue work, solving cases, but above all his friends.

    “I thought I asked you to meet me this evening.” A voice to his immediate right pierced his thoughts.

    Henry had been distracted enough to not notice Reece take the seat next to him. Struck dumbfounded, Henry didn't reply, just scooted over to offer her more room.

    “Before you ask,” continued Reece, “I found you with standard police work, and you have no right to lecture me on overreach.”

    “I wasn’t planning on it, and I wouldn't dare.”

    “Good. I brought your letter.” She brandished it. “You don't see penmanship like this any more. I didn't even know they still taught it when you were in school.”

    Henry peered over at the lovingly crafted whorls and sharp strokes that made up his handwriting, only slightly changed over the past two centuries, and settled on, “I had very old-fashioned parents.”

    “I'm willing to bet you did.” Reece folded his letter into crisp, even thirds and returned it to her purse.

    Something in Henry prickled at her words, but this latest blow, atop everything else, had dampened his suspicion. Irritated, he snapped, “You didn't leave work and hunt me down on a subway car to compliment my penmanship.”

    “No. No, I didn't. I’m worried about what you’ll do now.”

    Henry nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. “To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure. I was rather fond of my job in the medical examiner's department.”

    “And yet, you'd rather protect your secret than keep it.”

    That stopped Henry short. Frustrated he clutched the newspaper until it crumpled under his fingers. “What is it with you people?” he snapped. “Lucas and his thinly disguised hero worship was bad enough, and Jo’s questioning is mostly kindness, lonely hearts finding each other.”

    “Careful,” Reece admonished, and Henry had the distinct impression he was being teased. “Those are my people you're insulting.”

    Henry snapped his mouth shut, staring through the Lieutenant to something much further away.

    “You stick out, Henry. You can't help but share whatever is in your head and put yourself in the spotlight. The mortals are bound to notice. Someone as imaginative as Lucas or as tenacious as Jo is bound to see the truth eventually.”

    “What did you just say?” Henry asked in a low tone. Instinctively, he searched for anyone who might be listening.

    Reece shook her head, drawing his attention back to her. “We don’t have eavesdroppers, but I'm not going to go repeating myself. Some of us actually try to be careful.”

    Henry went from fearful and guarded to confused. “I promise, I have no idea what you're talking about.”

    “Henry, do you really think an entire police precinct is fooled by fake paperwork? I'm certain you were a fine physician, but your doctoring of records left something to be desired.”

    “If you feel my records are false, then why hire me?”

    “I hired you because you're clever, and a damn good ME. And back then you were quiet and kept to yourself. I didn't think I had much to worry about.”

    “Soon you won't,” Henry reminded her, growing increasingly frustrated.

    “Henry, believe it or not, I'm trying to help you. I have been, ever since you decided to start working with Detective Martinez.”

    “Why?”

    “In part because I thought we should stick together, and in part because she's a good person and a good cop.”

    “This is insane,” grumbled Henry.

    “I could shoot us both to prove it,” suggested Reece leaning over so she could whisper, “but that's moving our relationship forward far quicker than I’d like. Look Dr. Morgan, if you insist on not believing me, that's up to you. I'll tender your resignation as you’ve suggested. Makes my life easier.”

    Henry glanced out at the graffitied tunnels scrolling past, and measured his words carefully. “Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that I agree with what you've said.”

    “Alright, in that conditional scenario, what then?”

    “Again, I’d ask: why?”

    “If you live long enough,” answered Reece, “then you pile up a great many regrets. If I let you leave without letting you know you had an ally, in me, and in this precinct, then you would have become one of mine.”

    When the silence on his end stretched on so long as to become uncomfortable, Reece put a hand on his shoulder. “Henry?”

    “Forgive me. It's just...the last time I received news like this, it didn't end well.”

    “That stalker of yours?” she guessed.

    Henry’s eyebrows lifted. He was amused by her perceptiveness. “It's a long story.”

    “We’ve got nothing but time.”

    “True. But I don't particularly feel like telling it here over the clanging of the subway.”

    “Well then, should we try your place or mine?”

    Henry smiled. “Why don't we make it mine? We’ll need to change trains and I'll need your help to send one of those textual phone messages to my roommate.”

    “I can handle that.” Reece smiled back, and Henry wondered if he’d ever earned that particular expression rather than the polite disinterest, barely contained annoyance, or head-shaking disbelief that she usually gave him. She handed over the letter of resignation. “Why don't you tear this up for me?”

   Henry happily reduced it to bits.


	2. Let Me Live Again

At first, Henry wasn't sure what to do once he’d gotten her through the front door. He was brimming with questions, naturally, but he was unsure the Lieutenant had any interest in answering them.

His son, however, had the social awareness Henry lacked, and ushered both of them in. “I have food ready if either of you are hungry. Ignore the junk, it multiples around Henry like rabbits.”

Reece let out a laugh and the tension in the room lifted. “You’ve either been in New York a while then, or-”

“I'm not very good at business?” Abe finished for her. “No, believe it or not, Henry has a story to go with everything, and a background check for every customer. You’d think we were rehoming children, or dogs, not furniture.”

“These aren't the only antiques lacking respect around here,” grumbled Henry. “New subject please.”

Abe stuck his tongue out at Henry. “I’ve heard you like jazz, Lieutenant.”

Reece fixed both Morgan men with a familiar puzzled expression Henry recognized from many of his declarations on cases. “Abe helped out with the Six AM case, it was his expertise that repaired the master tape.”

“Baking that tape was an honor, honestly. To bring that song back to life.”

Reece's face took on that dreamy quality it held back at the precinct when she spoke about it the first time. “Six AM was so rich with emotion. Joy bursting from every note, rewriting the rules of jazz itself.”

Abe nodded vigorously. “That's what I fell in love about it, jazz is expression. It's you, bleeding directly into music. I have quite the collection here, if you'd like to pick out something to listen to. Best part, it annoys Henry.”

“Go on and listen to whatever noise you like,” Henry called after them. “Just means you're stuck with opera in the morning.”

Reece couldn't resist a chance to rib him, if he insisted on insulting jazz. “Opera? Really Henry, that's asking for trouble.”

They ended up skipping straight to dessert and wine—Reece had already eaten and Abraham’s trifle was nearly worthy of his mother’s. Conversation slowly drifted from a string of musicians Henry was only vaguely aware of, to casework, and wound back to ways Henry could be a thorn in their mutual sides. Despite the teasing and his still burning curiosity, the evening was a welcome reprieve for a weary Henry.

“And now if you excuse me, it's getting late for the mortal man.” He leaned over and muttered conspiratorially, “have fun, and do something I can't do.”

Henry glanced down at the table, momentarily abashed. “I'm sorry about him.”

“Don't be. Abraham is charming.”

“He’s a fine son.”

“There's something I’ve never done.” She sipped from her glass. “Is it hard?”

Henry grinned, though she could see something false in it. “If you're asking about raising children, of course.”

“That's not what I meant.” She shook her head and let out a breath. “I meant because you are, and he is, that one day...look at me, I’ve never been so lost for words.”

He reached out and captured one of her hands in his, surprised when it didn't feel strange. Had only hours ago they been passing acquaintances? “It’s unbearable, and it will only be more so...all too soon. But I can't say I regret it.”

Reece gave that several moments thought, casting her gaze about the room. “The truest test is: would you do it again?”

Henry spoke slowly, not having confronted the question for years. Not since Abigail was young and had wanted to gave Abraham a sibling. Back then, the answer had been so clear, so obvious. “While I cannot be sure of anything, I think under the right circumstances, I'd do a lot of things I caught myself saying I'd never do again.”

She nodded, and Henry noted she looked equally burdened by something, but this time he wasn't quite as curious.

Instead, he asked, “Lieutenant, would you mind accompanying me outside?”

“I’d be delighted. And Joanna is fine, we aren't on the clock.”

Henry held her coat out, and smiled as she allowed him to help her into it.“There are a few things I miss that aren't able to be put into an antique shop.”

“Chivalry and English manners did have their advantages, but I can't say I fully share your nostalgia. Immortality aside, I'd wager history was far kinder to you,” Joanna pointed out as she did up the last of her coat buttons.

“It's one of the reasons I like the sky,” he replied softly as they made their way out into the twilight. It wasn't nearly as late as Abraham had led them to believe, the sky was still deep blue turning black. “Forever changing and swirling, stars born and dying, but always up there.”

“A little bit like us,” she acknowledged.

A much more companionable silence followed, which Henry ultimately broke. “I should have tried this earlier. I was trying to tell Detective Martinez of my—well now I suppose our—curse. I know, it's unwise, but she's starting to ask questions and I, I can't keep lying to her. Though perhaps now...”

Joanna set a finger on Henry's lips mid-ramble. “Contrary to my earlier advice I happen to think you should. Have you ever known Jo to do anything except protect the people she cares about? To consider all possibilities?”

“No. If anything, I'm worried she might try too well. People, good, important people, have been killed protecting me and this secret of mine.”

“People have died for much less. How many senseless murders have you personally autopsied, or unfortunate accidents? Death is rarely purposeful. Protecting someone you care about, after all the deaths I’ve seen? Doesn't seem like a bad way to go.”

“Wanting to save everyone is why I became a doctor.” After a moment he added, “Then again, it's also how I died, originally.”

“I don't have all the answers, Henry. I don't even pretend to, and doubt I ever will. But, for now, I just take it one day a time, like everybody else. Is that young and foolish?” 

“Not at all. I’m just getting to be so old, I’ve forgotten how.” Henry frowned, swiping at empty air.

“I happen to think you're doing fine.”  

“Joanna, how are you sure I'm older?”

“Call it a detective’s hunch. Care to confirm it with your birthday?”

“September 19, 1779.”

“April 29, 1909.”

“I think we should both get to bed. Something about murder never sleeping, so those who fight it should rest for both.”

Henry nodded. His pulse accelerated and he shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting as he asked, “Lieutenant, Joanna, could we do this again sometime?”

“I don't see why not. After all, you still owe me the truth behind that stalker of yours. I'll see you tomorrow morning, Henry.”

“Good night, Joanna. Rest well.”

Henry watched as she moved off down the street and hailed a cab. Then he turned his gaze skyward and watched until a new pinpoint of light appeared in the sky.

_ A great deal of thought is usually put into the endings of life. Arrangements are to be made, bereavement or celebration to be had. For better or worse, endings are dramatic. But beginnings, they seek up on you. A seemingly random occurrence that just might turn into something more, and this time for me, could last forever. _

  
  
  



End file.
